Watch Them Die

Sixteen residents from the Broadmoore Apartments were customers at Emerald City Video. Hannah looked up the histories on all of their accounts. Two of them had rented Rosemary’s Baby: Smith, Collyer & Jeanne had checked out the movie eighteen months ago; and Webber, Rosanne had watched it back in February. Looking for Mr. Goodbar had never been rented on either account.

It wasn’t much to go on. Hannah wondered if cross-referencing all these names was just a waste of time.

She’d been at her register, tapping into the files for the last half hour. She’d gracefully weathered interruptions from customers. But Hannah didn’t see this one coming.

“I have a DVD on hold,” the middle-aged man announced—without so much as an “Excuse me.”

Hannah glanced up at him. With his silver hair and tan, he had a certain kind of cold handsomeness. A Ralph Lauren logo was embossed on his lightweight, navy blue jacket. He must have been drinking, because he smelled like a distillery. “The name’s Hall, Lester. The movie is Sorority Sluts II: Anal Adventures.”

Nodding, Hannah kept a straight face. “All right, let me see if we have it back here for you.”

“Well, you should,” he replied, his tone a bit ominous. He drummed his fingers on the countertop. “I called earlier, and they told me it was in.”

Hannah turned to the back counter.

“Hate that guy,” her coworker, Britt, murmured as she passed Hannah with a stack of videos. “He’s such an asshole.”

All Hannah could do was nod her head, and think to herself Well, you’d know. You’re living with the poster boy of assholes. Britt’s boyfriend, Webb, was scum, a drug dealer who often beat her. Hannah liked Britt a lot, but knew she was kind of a screwup. As their coworker, Scott, once said about Britt, One minute, you want to hug her and protect her from the world, and the next you want to slap some common sense into the poor, sorry bitch.

Twenty-nine and pencil-thin, Britt had short, maroon-dyed hair, a pale complexion, and—at last count— thirteen piercings. She also had a certain gentle, vulnerable quality that was endearing. Nearly every week, she gave Hannah some little gizmo for Guy that she’d saved from a cereal box.

“Last week, he called me an idiot, right to my face,” Britt whispered. She snuck a wary glance over her shoulder at Lester Hall. “He phoned earlier about a DVD porno. It’s right there.”

It wasn’t there. Hannah checked the reservation pile. Britt must have transposed a couple of digits on the DVD’s code. An adult DVD was there for him, but it was the wrong one. Hannah looked in the drawer, and the DVD that Lester Hall wanted was checked out. “Oh, shit,” Hannah muttered.

She put on her best contrite look and turned to him. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Hall,” she said. “They put the wrong movie back here for you. The DVD you wanted is checked out.” Hannah looked it up in her computer. “We have Sorority Sluts II in VHS format, and I can—”

“I don’t want it on VHS,” he said firmly. “They told me the DVD was here. Why would they tell me it’s here when it isn’t?”

Beside her, Scott looked up from his register.

“They goofed,” Hannah explained. “The DVD back here is two numbers off. I’m sorry. If you’d like another DVD, we’ll rent it to you for free.”

“I don’t want another DVD! I wanted Sorority Sluts II. It’s not there?”

Hannah shook her head. “No, the movie back here is something called Debutante Whores.”

Scott piped up. “You know, those Debutante Whores are just like Sorority Sluts, only classier.” He paused. “Because—they’re debutantes.”

Hannah shot him a You’re-Not-Helping look.

Lester Hall glared at Scott, then at Hannah. “I don’t understand how this happened. You said my DVD was here, and it isn’t. This is fucked. How stupid are you people?”

“It was just human error,” Hannah said patiently. “I’m very sorry. We’ll credit your account—”

“I don’t want a credit. I want my movie, you stupid bitch. And I’m sick of you saying you’re sorry—”

“Hey, you know,” Scott interrupted. “Take it easy—”

“I’m not talking to you, faggot,” Lester Hall retorted.

People in the store were stopping to stare. Britt came up to the register. “I think I’m the one who screwed up your reservation,” she said meekly. “I’m really sorry—”

“I don’t want apologies. I want my fucking movie!”

“All right, this is getting out of hand,” Hannah announced. “We can’t help you, Mr. Hall. And you’re being abusive. You need to leave the store.”

“Oh, really? Are you going to make me, bitch?”

“That’s it,” Scott said. “I’m calling the cops on you.”

“No need. I’ll show him out.”

Craig Tollman stepped up to the counter beside Lester Hall. He smiled at the silver-haired man. “Let’s go.”

Dumbfounded, Hannah stared at them. She hadn’t seen Craig in a few days. She had to admire his timing.

Lester Hall was mad and drunk, but he wasn’t about to tangle with Craig. He turned to Hannah. “I want a credit on my account!” he demanded. “I should get a free movie!”

She nodded. “I’ll tell the manager exactly what happened.”

Craig nudged at him. “Now say good-bye.”

Lester Hall didn’t say anything. He stomped out of the store—with Craig right behind him.

“Thanks for shopping with us!” Scott called out, for the benefit of the other customers in the store. Some of them laughed. One person applauded.

But Hannah was staring out the window. Lester Hall retreated down the street, while Craig seemed to stand guard outside the door. He glanced in the store window, and gave Hannah a little salute.

She nodded at Craig and managed to smile.

“Do you know that black guy?” Scott whispered. “He’s a major babe. I didn’t even see him come into the store. Did you?”

Hannah just shook her head. She looked back outside, but Craig was gone. She wondered how long he’d been in the store before stepping up to the counter. How long had he been there watching her?

“You’re shaking a little, Hannah,” Scott said. “You okay?”

Britt patted her on the back. “God, you really stood up to that creep. It was all my fault. I’m sorry, Hannah. I’m the one who screwed up—”

“Don’t sweat the small stuff,” Hannah said, with a nervous laugh. She started collecting returns from the drop-off bin.

“Sure you don’t want to take five in the back room or something?” Scott asked.

Hannah began checking in the return videos. “I’ll be fine; nothing to worry about.” She said it again, hoping she might actually believe it. “Nothing to worry about at all.”

He watched Lester Hall climb into a black Mercedes. Then he hurried back to his own car so he could follow Lester home. Small wonder the son of a bitch was peeved about not getting his porn DVD. He lived about eight miles away—in a sprawling, white stucco ranch house on a big, secluded lot near Lake Washington.

He videotaped Lester stepping inside his house. The results on these night shots always left a lot to be desired, but the picture quality didn’t have to be perfect for Lester the Letch.

The camera panned across the house, then tracked down a slope and past a gate to a side garden. Through various windows, snippets of videotape caught Peeping Tom shots of Lester moving about the house. He took off his jacket, shirt, and some kind of corset to hold in his girth. Then he walked around in his slacks and V-neck T- shirt.

In the back, a row of bushes against the house provided some camouflage, while sliding glass doors offered a